


To Have

by paenteom



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: John Reese has Many Emotions, M/M, so many of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 21:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paenteom/pseuds/paenteom
Summary: It feels strange even now: to be able to say yes when Harold offers him something he wants.





	To Have

**Author's Note:**

  * For [odalisque (fifteenstitches)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fifteenstitches/gifts).



> This mini-fic only exists because I wouldn't stop calling John a soggy bottom, so my friend made me write about the Factual Truth that John Reese cries during sex, because if I have to besmirch Mary Berry's honour I may as well do it right.

Harold starts slow at first, small shallow thrusts that make John’s breath hitch. He can’t quite help the way his fingers curl into Harold’s shoulders, or the sharp, possessive pleasure he feels at the thought of the bruises he’s probably leaving.

Harold’s breath is warm on his face, and John doesn't know what to focus on first: the thrill beating hotly in his veins, the feeling of Harold’s warm skin against his, the way their bodies move together like they were always meant to.

It’s good at first, the slow, steady rhythm, how careful Harold is with him, but soon John starts to feel empty, greedy. His hips buck up and into Harold’s of their own accord before he can stop himself, and he can’t quite help the cry that tears from him either.

“Oh,” Harold says, more a moan than anything else. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Would you like it harder?”

John turns his face into the pillow. He can feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Yes,” he manages, his voice sounding rough even to himself. “Yes, please.” It feels strange even now: to be able to say yes when Harold offers him something he wants.

He prepares himself when Harold grips his hips a little tighter, but the indescribably sweet stretch still takes him by surprise. His breath catches in his throat, back arching helplessly with pleasure. His eyes start to flutter closed, his vision swimming, and he blinks vigorously; he doesn’t want to miss a single second of this: Harold moving above him, in him, his eyes wide and unbelievably tender, like John is something to be cherished.

He feels bare under Harold’s gaze, seen. John’s chest is tight with something he can’t name, the cumulation of so many things he didn't dare think about for so long. On his next exhale, he breathes out Harold’s name, eyes finally closing.

Harold stops moving. John whines in frustration and tries to focus his gaze on Harold’s face even though his vision is blurred. Harold looks concerned for some reason, his brows an upset arc.

“John, is everything alright?”

What John wants to says is: “It will be as soon as you start fucking me again.” He contains himself. “I’m fine,” he says instead, and tries to look reassuring.

“It’s just that,” Harold says, his eyebrows showing no signs of coming back down, “well, you’re crying, John.”

_Oh_. John brings up a hand to wipe at his cheek. He hadn't even noticed they were wet. He feels a sudden, overwhelming rush of affection for Harold for caring.

“It’s okay,” he says, aware that he’s probably smiling like an idiot.

“Are you sure,” Harold asks, still looking worried.

“Completely,” John says, grinding his hips up into Harold and relishing the way he shivers above him. “I’m just--”

He breaks off, not quite brave enough yet to utter the full truth.

“I’m just happy.”

Harold blinks at him for a few seconds. Then his face breaks out into a smile, one of his real ones, eyes crinkling at the corners. John knows Harold heard what he didn't say, knows Harold has never needed John to use words to communicate with him.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs.

His left hand comes up to curl around John’s own, a reassuring weight. John knows what that means, too. He squeezes Harold’s fingers, then leans up to kiss him right on his smiling mouth.


End file.
